Preserved In Ink

“Regret is a form of punishment itself.” - Nouman Ali Khan

Deep in thought, Amelia taps a pen against her chin. Perhaps a side note as to why I’m writing this letter, along with a few of my thoughts, might be a good start. A single sheet of lined paper sits in front of her. Amelia reaches for a post-it note.

How did we meet? I hadn’t liked you at first; I know that much. Actually, I hated you. I remember now, and my first thought was, “What an obnoxious jerk.” (Don’t you dare feel bad!) In complete honesty, I can’t help smiling whenever I think of that day. In fact, it’s hard to believe once upon a time I had thought and felt so.

These days, Aniike, you’re an important person to me, one of my closest friends. I don’t know if we’ll always be like this. As time goes by, people change, and once close friends drift apart. Perhaps, one day we’ll be nothing more than strangers with mutual memories. Maybe someday we won’t even remember each other. When that happens, I’ll accept it and move on with my life, but for now, while you’re still here, I want to take full advantage of your presence.

For the day when we go our separate ways, I wrote you a letter so you will never forget me, and I can say ‘I tried my best’ at the end.

Sincerely Mimi

Sunlight streams in through the window and brings to her attention the tiny dust particles floating through the air. She reaches a hand to touch them while they continue dancing aimlessly on the rays of sunlight, not unlike the scattered thoughts in her head. I finished the first part, er, well, the introductory side note part, but . . . what to do with the actual letter?

“Ugh,” an exasperated groan escapes her lips. She’s stuck.

Slumping down, leaning into her chair, Amelia closes her eyes, soaking up the warmth the sun has to offer. “Tch, stuck Lia? Stop overthinking every damn thing. Just close your eyes and write.” Amelia’s eyes fly open. Disoriented, she gets up. Taking a single step, she collapses in an ungainly heap at the foot of her chair.

Braced against the bed, eyes shut tight, she waits for her heart rate to return to normal. What the heck is wrong with me? Amelia, get a grip already. We don’t think about the stupid voices in our heads. Hands buried in thick, ebony locks, her head on her knees, Amelia focuses on breathing. She wasn’t so focused, for the creak of her door being swung open, to startle her.

“What are you doing?” The voice, accompanied by the sounds of footsteps, came thudding closer.

“I have a headache, can’t you tell?” Amelia huffs, hiding her scare behind a mask of annoyance. Shifting her head, she peeks over her arms. A pair of well-tanned legs come to a stop in her line of vision.

“You’re dumb.”

Why is she here? Why now? Of all times. “Is there a reason you’re in my room, Stella?” Amelia asks, careful to keep the steadily increasing annoyance out of her voice. Typical, she chooses now to come.

Oblivious to her sister’s growing irritation, Stella flops onto the bed. “Aren’t you the bossy love-the-sound-of-her-own-voice loser? You know, the one who was screaming for me?”

Screaming? Love the sound of my own voice? Bossy? This girl, somehow. She makes it sound like I’m an egotistical witch! Does anyone else suffer this way? “Get off my bed,” Amelia grounds out. Younger sisters are the absolute worst. “I called you, gently, 3 hours ago, and it was to help me surprise mom.”

Shaking her head, Amelia absently winds a loose string around her finger. “It’s mom’s birthday today. Was it so bad, I wanted to do something nice for once?”

Stella sits up, glaring at Amelia. “You’re so stupid. What makes you think mom would care?”

What is wrong with her? I really don’t understand. And for the one-millionth time, I’m the only elder sister, no eldest kid, in the entire world who gets bullied by their younger siblings. I suppose Stella was always closer to mom than I ever was. “I don’t think it wou- Hey!” Amelia cuts off midsentence. “ -Quit throwing things at me.”

Stomping her feet, “You’re the worst sister in the world. And you're also pretty stupid.” Stella storms out.

What did I do? Amelia wonders to herself, watching her sister’s retreating form. She hadn’t come in here looking for a fight, Amelia realizes with sudden clarity. Oof, maybe I am the worst sister in the world.

Arms hugging her legs close to her body, her chin resting on her knees, Amelia closes her eyes and reflects. Her thoughts stray to the past. And there, as though carried on a gentle breeze, she hears the ghost of familiar laughter. Her lips curve into a faint smile as a few unwanted tears travel a hot trail down her cheek. I’m losing my mind. “Hmm, and you’ll just accept that?” A voice whispers in the back of her head.

Hands curled into fists, jaw terse, Amelia stands up, wrapped in self-loathing for her patheticness, her anger consuming her.

The note in her neat, elegant hand, still lying where she left it.

Right, the letter. Anike’s letter. What is wrong with me. Rooted in place, she takes no notice of the nails biting into the palm of her hand. I need to get my erratic behaviour in check if I want to keep his company. If I want to keep any of their company.

“You would hate me. I don’t like it when people hate me. A lot of people hate me.” The echo of her whispered words contains a trace of despair. The anger vanishes as quickly as it came, leaving her feeling hollow and void inside.

What would he say if he knew? Would he still wish to keep my company and friendship? Am I a liar for not telling him these things?

A self-deprecating giggle spills from her lips. I want to hold on to him for as long as possible, yet, I am unwilling to trust him. Bitterness tugs at her. Every relationship needs trust to survive and function. I trust my other friends to still love and treat me the same. Yet, I don’t have the courage to say anything to him. How many friendships did I lose this way?

The smooth blank paper lays untouched, her pen beside it. A black notebook surfaces, as well as lines filled with violet-coloured ink in a tidy scrawl. Pain claws at her heart through the memory. The cold, callous words still hurt, no less than the day they were said. The sun’s warmth caught on her arm, and through her pain, she marvels at how the world goes on despite her inner turmoil.

The sun continues shining warm and cheerfully. The birds go on flying and chirping noisily. The sky remains clear and bright.

Isn’t this the part where it gets cloudy and depressing outside? Maybe even drizzling a little? Her eyes are drawn to the note she had written earlier. “No more. Never again.” Her lips set in a grim line, she turns to leave.

Stopping, she glances back once more, a contemplative look on her face, before slipping back in. She tucks the note into her math textbook. Satisfied, she leaves. The door clicking shut softly behind her.